These days, I found myself hanging out with the Gryffindors more than I ever wanted to. It was too bright and happy. Red. Red everywhere. The dungeons were better than this.

We sat in the Great Hall, eating breakfast.  As I watched Ron, Harry, and Hermione talk, I could only remember one thing Malfoy said to me.

"Seems like the Weasley doesn't like you much."

I watched Ron Weasley sit quietly, watching his friends speak. The more I paid attention, the more I realized he wouldn't talk when I was around. When I entered the room, he fell completely silent, as if jinxed by Silencio. I frowned.

His eye caught mine and he frowned, focusing his attention back on Harry. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Harry, just leave it alone."

"He's a right git. It's like he stomped on my face all over again," Harry growled.

"Who stomped on your face? When did this happen?" I asked, finally tuning in on their conversation.

"Malfoy. On the Hogwarts Express. I was following him using the invisibility cloak and he found out it was me." Harry took an angry bite of egg, chewing fast.

"Well, have you ever thought the problem may be that we're getting into his business too much? I mean we keep following him around," I pointed out. "I'm not saying he's all that great, but honeslty, he hasn't come chasing after the three of you for a while now." I took a sip juice.

Ron had a look of disgust on his face, but he didn't say a word. I felt heat swirling in me. Calm down, Steele. Don't push him.

"Well, it's not like he's a great person. Him being quiet means he's definitely up to something," Hermione said, brushing a lock of curly hair behind her ear. She leaned forward to take a bite from her sandwich.

"I know," I said. "That's true."

"Oh, stop pretending!" Ron finally said, letting the fork in his hand fall against the plate with a clatter.  "Why her?" he asked his friends, pointing at me. "Her, of all people? I know you helped us, but, come on. We know who's side you're on. Why don't you bloody show us your arm to prove you're not on their side either?" he said with a scoff.

"Ron, stop it," Hermione said, grabbing his arm. "Sit down."

"No, I know where he's coming from," I assured them. "Look." I rolled up my left sleeve. It was blank. Ron motioned to my right arm. With a roll of my eyes, I showed them that one too. "Am I clear?" I let my eyes flicker to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was watching me, his eyes on my uncovered arms. Agh. To him, this could look like a pledge of allegiance, only pushing me further from him.

"For now," Ron said with a half sneer.

"Don't you have Quidditch today?" Hermione asked, desperately trying to change the subject. "Ron, you prepared?"

"Yeah. I've got my helmet out and everything." He peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. "If your stupid house starts singing that 'Weasley is our King' song, I will murder all of you."

I rolled my sleeves back down, propping my chin up on my palm, elbow on the smooth mahogany table. "I can't control them, but I can apologize from before. They're brilliant singers though, I must say."

Hermione shot me a warning look. "Incoming."

"What? Where?" I turned, only to see Malfoy leaning over my shoulder. I clutched my heart in surprise, holding back a scream.

"Hanging out with your new friends, eh Steele?" he said in his usual obnoxious tone. "On this table where you belong," he patted the wood. "Don't bother coming back over there. We don't need you."

"Hah! You can only wish that were true," I replied, giving him a shove back. "Get out of here. I'm eating."

Draco scowled. "Whatever." He looked at Ron, a mischievous smile crossing his face. "Hey, King Weasley. Ready to help us win today?" Ron jumped to his feet, but Hermione yanked him down again. The plates rattled.

Malfoy smirked, walking away.

"Why does he have to be so bitter?" Hermione asked. "It's alright, Ron. You'll do amazing."

"Yeah, Ron. Drink up," Harry said with a grin, pushing a cup towards him. "You need your strength for the game." I saw him slip a teardrop-shaped vial into his pocket.

"Harry, no," I warned. "You need that. Weasley doesn't."

"Need what?" Ron asked, confused, picking up the goblet.

"Don't drink it, Ron."

"Is that Felix Felicis?" Hermione asked. "That's cheating!"

"And casting a confundus charm on McLaggen isn't?" he shot back, but only low enough so that only Hermione and I could hear.

"That's different!" she hissed back.

Ah. So that was why Weasley got the spot on the team and McLaggen seem to jerk in the wrong direction, missing the last quaffle shot. I looked between Ron and Hermione, who's face was starting to turn scarlet. Oh. It was real then.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked as Ron quickly chugged down the contents of the cup. Weasley's eyes lit up and he grinned.

"Never better, Harry. I feel amazing!" he hopped to his feet. "I feel like I can do anything." He walked away, leaving his breakfast untouched.

Suddenly, Harry looked at me. "I forgot you were on the opposite team," he said. "I'm not cheating. Don't tell McGonagall or something."

"Why would I listen to you? I want my house to win," I got to my feet. "Helping the school is one thing. I'm not going to let you cheat," I smirked.

"Wait!" He grabbed my sleeve. "Look." He pulled out the vial, and I was surprised to see it was full. Harry grinned. "It's all him. I just needed to give him a confidence boost."

"Fine. I won't say anything." I dragged two pinched fingers across my lips, as if I were zipping them shut.

"What did you tell her, Harry?" Hermione asked, leaning over the table. "Come on. Tell me!" Harry grinned, leaning back, and almost fell off the bench.

*     *     *

"Vaisey Urquhart accidently got his hands on one of those Weasley prank candies-something called a 'Puking Pastille'-and now our Quidditch team has one less chaser, and sadly, no captain at all," Tracey said as we trudged through the fresh snow towards Hogmeade. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, pulling down my hat. "We're going to lose to Gryffindor this year. I know it."

"We can't," I said. "Not again." Snowflakes speckled my clothes. It was a winter wonderland. This was my favorite time of the year-I really hated the heat.

"They're looking for someone to fill in for chaser," Tracey continued. There it was; the Three Broomsticks. Tracey and I rushed inside, stomping our feet against the floor to get rid of the excess snow. I pulled off my gloves, stuffing them into my pockets. I looked at Tracey, whose nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold.

"Butterbeer?" I asked, and she nodded. We took a seat and I pulled off my hat.

"Anyways, the team-"

"Tracey," I cut her off, "what are you trying to tell me? I get it, Slytherin doesn't have a chaser. We still have Zabini-"

"You," she said quickly. "Wait. Hear me out," she said before I could protest, "your grandmother was the Samarah Steele. How come you never told us?"

"She played for Gryffindor, Tracey. How did you even find out?"

"Her  pictures, right behind James Potter! None of us paid close enough attention because, you know, she was a Gryffindor. And Potter. But, besides that . . . I mean, it must rhn in u our blood. And after we did some research . . ."

"Who's we?"

"Blaise and I. We found out she played for England."

"So?"

"It must run in your blood!"

"It doesn't," I said as the Butterbeers were set in front of us. I took a sip, the gold liquid warming my insides.

Tracey pointed at her lip. "Mustache." I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. "When was the last time you were on a broom?" she asked, her blue eyes wide.

"First year. I had to because of Hooch."

"Try out for the position. Just this one time. And not as a seeker . . . Malfoy already has that spot."

"Tracey, all these things are distractions."

She scowled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Is this because of Draco?"

"No! Why would it be?" I asked, annoyed. I set down my butterbeer.

"Well, he won't stop talking about you. And not in a good way. After that tickle thing-"

"Let's stop talking about that waste of space," I scowled.

If you want to get back at his hateful comments about you, join the team. It'll be good for you. And you can prove yourself once and for all."

"I haven't touched a broom in years, Tracey."

"Borrow my Air Wave Gold."

I sighed. "Fine. I'm only doing this to spite him, mind you."

"This is why you were picked in Slytherin," she smirked. "Self-preservation, Steele." She clinked her glass against mine, and took a huge sip of butterbeer.

*     *     *

What Tracey Davis, my beautiful friend, forgot to mention was that the Air Wave Gold was faster, if not the same speed at the Firebolt. As soon as I took a seat on it, I was zooming through the air. I screamed.

"TRACEEEEEY!"

She was giggling maniacally. "You're doing so well, Elvira!"

"HOW DO I STOP THIS THING?"

"Lean back! Adjust your feet, you're leaning too forward."

I did as she said, slowing down. As I descended, I nearly rolled off the broom.

"Tracey, how fast was that?" I gasped. "Why . . . Why do you have that?"

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to hold back a laugh, "I didn't know it was that fast. It's actually a racing broom."

I tossed it at her, scowling. "I can't try out o this."

"What the hell are you two doing here? I booked the field today," I heard a drawl. I spun around.

"Well, hello, Malfoy," I greeted naturally. "I'm practicing so I can try out for chaser in place of Urquhart."

"And you expect to learn in one day?" He scoffed.

"It's in my blood, according to Tracey," I pointed out. "Do you know who my grandmother was? Gryffindor seeker. Tha's right. She crushed you Slytherins."

"You're a Slytherin," Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Are you, by any chance, intoxicated?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, aghast. "I'm just really tired."

"Well, you won't make it. Not with that broom anyway," Malfoy gestured towards the Air Wave Gold. "That's a racing-"

"Racing broom, I know," I waved him off. "I nearly split my head a moment ago. "I have to show Urquhart, though, and he's sick. I wouldn't make if anyways."

"I'm co-captain," Malfoy smirked. "I stepped in place of him. I'd never let you join the team, anyway."

"Well," I faced Tracey, "there you have it. There goes my potential career, my life. Let's go back." 

Draco pointed his wand at me. "He's trying to kill me now. Quick, Tracey!" I grabbed onto her arm. "Run. At least one of us will survive. Don't forget me. Spread my legacy-"

"Methysmenos Andare," he said.

The fog in my head seemed to clear up. I groaned. "I give up."

"Why are you acting like a two year old?" he scowled. "Do me a favor. Stay out of our way on the field, alright?"

"I'm not-" I stopped. "What? Field?"

"Just . . ." He rolled his eyes, handing me the Nimbus 2001. "Get on. I have to see how well you do, first. Here," he bent down, grabbing a stone. "I'm going to throw this. Catch it, and bring it back. Ready?" Confused, I mounted the broom. Again, he groaned. "That's not how you do it." He grabbed my ankle and pushed it lower. Malfoy pushed the back of my neck lower. "Bend at an angle for speed and control, Steele."

"Got it."

"On three," he bounced the grey stone on his gloved palm. "One, two . . . three!" He threw it as far as he could, and it went impressively far. I shot after it, reaching out to grab it. Sadly, I missed, my hands catching nothing.

"Definitely not a seeker," Malfoy said, almost gladly. He didn't want anyone taking his spot. "You fly well enough, so you can take Vaisey's spot for now. Borrow a broom from Hooch, she has extras. See you in an hour. And remember," he said, his voice returning to its usual cold demeanor, "stay out of our way. We only need you to be able to play today, understand?"

I nodded. He walked off, and Tracey stared at me. "That went a lot better than I thought it would."

"I still don't believe it went. Pinch me."

"You're on the team!" she shrieked.

"For one day," I grinned.

"For one day!" she clapped. "Time to celebrate." She grabbed my arm, pulling my towards the castle.